


Pull The Trigger

by FormulaFerrari



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Death, M/M, Russian Roulette, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-07
Packaged: 2018-03-10 22:34:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3305822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FormulaFerrari/pseuds/FormulaFerrari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Imagine your OTP forced to play Russian Roulette against each other. However, they have to hold the gun against each other's heads instead of their own (putting it in a died at the other's hands kind of way)."<br/>Prompt from OTP Prompts on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pull The Trigger

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…  
> I read the prompt and…  
> I had to flip a coin…  
> I'm so sorry.  
> Please read the warning.  
> Sorry…
> 
> #ForzaJules  
> \- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Mark felt groggy. And his neck really hurt. He groaned a little, straighten his neck up from its lolled position and reaching to rub at the aching muscles. But he found he couldn’t. Trying once again to make his hands cooperate he felt the cut of something tight around his wrists. He frowned, still keeping his eyes closed, and pulling tightly on the binds. But they weren’t budging. Mark opened his eyes too fast, feeling blinded by the bright light that seemed to be shinning in his eyes. He squinted up at it, trying to understand anything that was happening. But it was to no use. He didn’t know where he was and he didn’t know what was happening. He did know he was sat on a chair though, something digging into his back. And he did know his hands were tied. Why and how, they were the questions he needed answering.

“I told you we hadn’t killed him.” A voice said; sounding like it was coming from Mark’s left. Mark tried to turn to it but he couldn’t see past the bright light shinning in his eyes.

“No, we’re leaving that to you.” Another voice sneered; sounding like it was coming from behind. Mark felt disorientated. He wished they’d get rid of the light so he could fully comprehend what the fuck was going on.

“No.” A third voice said. But it had Mark sitting upright, his eyes desperate to make out what was in the shadows.

“You don’t get a say in this.”

“Fernando?” Mark called, his voice weak and sore. His eyes were wide, scared. He did not want whoever had him to have Fernando. That would be the worst thing.

“Don’t go quiet on us now, _Nano_.” The second voice teased. Mark gritted his teeth.

“Don’t call him that.” He shot, glaring towards the darkness. Laughter followed his statement.

“You’re not really in a position to be bargaining, are you Webber.” The first voice scoffed.

“Why don’t you stop hiding in the shadows like a coward and come out where I can see you.” Mark barked, still trying to get his hands free. More laughter echoed around him, sending ice shooting down his back.

“We’re not hiding, Webber.” A new voice muttered in his ear. Mark felt their breath tickle at the back of his neck, the rough scratchy skin of their unshaved chin. “Smile for the camera.” It mocked. Mark winced once more as the light was turned off in front of him. His eyes betrayed him blindly until suddenly everything started to come into focus. Mark couldn’t be sure how many more people were still hiding in the shadows, but that seemed almost irrelevant at the moment. He scanned the rom, seeing the camcorder set up on a tripod to his right, the red light blinking menacingly as it captured everything that was happening in front of it. Mark looked away; turning forwards and nearly threw himself forwards. Fernando sat in front of him, two men flanking his shoulders holding guns. The tears that were rolling down Fernando’s face were killing Mark. He couldn’t take it anymore.

But the hand on his shoulder stopped him from doing anything. And his ankles tied to the chair restricted his movements.

“Now you’re back with us we can start the game.” The blonde off Fernando’s left smiled, moving towards the camcorder. Mark’s eyes locked on Fernando but the Spaniard just looked petrified. His face was scarily pale and Mark wanted more than anything to pull him into his arms and protect him from everything. Promise it was all going to be OK. But he couldn’t. Mark fought against the ropes holding him in place. “Struggling won’t help.” The man smirked from behind the camera. Mark ignored him, continuing his struggle to get free. The safety snapping off a gun made him look up. Fernando eyes were closed as the second man kept his head back with a handful of his hair, pressing the barrel of his gun to Fernando’s temple.

“Stop it.” He ordered, eyes not leaving Mark’s. Mark gritted his teeth.

“Let him go.” Mark said, his voice low.

“I will once you stop struggling.”

“No, just let him go.” Mark amended. The man raised an eyebrow at him. “Just let him leave, take this out on me.”

“No, no, no, Webber.” The man behind the camera tutted. Mark frowned at him as the second assailant let go of Fernando. “This is directly involving both of you.”

“Fernando has done nothing! Just let him go!” Mark pleaded, his eyes trained on the first man as he moved back towards them.

“And you think you’ve personally done something to piss us off?”

“I’m the one tied to a chair, mate.” Mark spat. The guy laughed at him.

“Don’t think you’re the only one with that privilege.”

“It’s got nothing to do with him. Let him go!” Mark growled, fighting against the ropes again.

“It’s got everything to do with him.” The voice shot harshly. Mark swallowed his fear. “Everything to do with you and him. _Together._ ” Mark frowned as the man moved forwards, placing something on the table between Mark and Fernando. The Australian’s eyes fell onto the Spaniard but Fernando had his eyes closed, tears slowly running down his cheeks.

“Then take it out on me.” Mark said, his voice calmer than he expected it to be. The man laughed. “Hurt me to hurt him more-”

“-Mark-!” Fernando gasped, outraged by what Mark had just said.

“-Surely then that’s only hurting him, no? You’re saying you would prefer me to only hurt him?” It was between a rock and a hard place. Mark had to decide whether he’d prefer to only see Fernando hurt or hurt them both. Mark didn’t see a correct answer. In his opinion they both got hurt either way. “It doesn’t matter anyway, Webber. I’ve already decided what we’re going to do.” The man nodded his head and suddenly Mark found one of his hands free. He didn’t know what use it would be though; he couldn’t reach Fernando and he couldn’t reach their captor. He was desperately trying to think of an escape plan. “How about you explain, Fernando?” Mark’s eyes move to the tear stained Spaniard, trying desperately to reassure him, to convince him that they can get out of this. But Fernando wouldn’t look at him. Maybe Fernando knew it was already futile to think like that. Think that there was any way to escape.

The Spaniard shook his head. Mark really wished he hadn’t have done.

“I’m sorry,” He sneered, pressing his own gun to Fernando’s forehead. Mark tensed, trying to lean as close as he could to Fernando. “You’re going to have to speak up. Our viewers can’t hear you.”

“Will not kill me.” Fernando said, his voice shaking terribly. Mark placed his hand on the table, still reaching for Fernando. Fernando’s eyes flicked to him before dropping to the table. He took a deep breath before looking up at the man with the gun pressed to his head.

“And why won’t I?” He asked as if asking for the weather, snapping the safety off his gun.

“Fernando, mate, just tell me.” Mark pleaded, desperate to get Fernando to look at him or take his hand. Fernando shook his head.

“Listen to your faggot friend, _Nano_.” Mark smacked the table, startling Fernando.

“Stop calling him that.”

“Aww, is it your precious nickname for him?” The man mocked turning to face Mark. He smacked the butt of his gun heavily into Mark’s outstretched hand, making him recoil it in pain. “Despicable.”

“If you kill me have none of your fun.” Fernando said, watching Mark cradle his hand to his chest.

“True.” The man nodded, clicking the safety back onto his gun. Mark exhaled a breath until he felt a cold barrel pressed under his chin. “But if I kill him then I _do_ get my fun.”

“Fernando he doesn’t have any power over you.” Mark forced past the tightness of fear in his throat. Fernando couldn’t even look at him. “Nothing, mate.”

“Oh no, Webber. I do.” The guy said, not even turning to face the Australian. “So how about you explain to your boyfriend here what game we’re going to play or I’ll paint the ceiling with his brain.”

“Fernando you don’t have to do anything.” Mark said softly, trying to sooth Fernando. But it wasn’t going to work. It was never going to work. Too much was on the line now. Fernando couldn’t risk it.

“Wants… Wants us to play…” Fernando started, his lips going dry. Mark shook his head but a hand was clamped over his mouth before he could say anything.

“To play…?” The guy encouraged. Fernando stared intensely at the table.

“… Russian Roulette…” Fernando all but whispered. Mark was released of his hold, the gun and the hand slipping back into the shadows. He gaped at the man who perched on the table in front of Fernando, picking the revolver up from behind him and loading a single bullet. The harsh click of the cylinder rotating in the gun echoed around the room, sending shivers down Mark’s spin. Fernando closed his eyes, flinching as the metal click snapped into place.

“With a twist.” The guy said, sliding the gun towards Mark. Mark looked down at it in disgust before looking back up at Fernando and the guy. Fernando shook his head. “No, no. You’ve got to finish explaining now.”

“It’s simple, mate.” Mark spat, glaring at the man’s back. He got off the table, almost as if startled that Mark was still there. “You want one of us to kill ourselves in front of the other.”

“No.” He smirked. A dark, cruel manic smirk that makes your blood turn to ice. “I want one of you to kill the other.” Mark’s mouth fell open in shock. No. He already knew he couldn’t do it. He already knew he wouldn’t do it. He refused. He refused to kill Fernando for some sick bastard’s game. He wouldn’t do it. No way. Himself, fine, because that meant saving Fernando. But if this maniac really thought he was about to lift a gun to Fernando’s head he was sorely mistaken.

The table was suddenly rotated, so instead of having the length between the two of them they only had the width. It didn’t bring them completely together but it brought Fernando within Mark’s reach. As they were pushed back into the table Mark reached for Fernando’s cheek, his hand falling a few centimetres short. He tried stretching as much as he could but he couldn’t close that gap. He couldn’t bring them together; wipe the tears off Fernando’s face. A frustrated groan fell from Mark’s mouth as he dropped his hand. Fernando instantly linked their fingers, squeezing his hand reassuringly. Mark looked up at his lover, seeing more tears in his eyes, seeing less of an escape from this horrible fate. Mark couldn’t do it. Wouldn’t do it. And neither would Fernando.

“Oi, none of that.” Mark gasped in pain as the knife slices across the back of his hand, tearing the skin. His hand fell away from Fernando’s as the Spaniard’s hand was pulled back behind his body. The blood trickled down Mark’s arm as he tried to stop the flow of blood, but without his other hand that became almost impossible. His eyes slid to the man with the camcorder in his hand as the gun was moved towards him. “You’ll go first.”

“No way.” Mark bit, glaring at their captor. The man shakes his head.

“You’ll go first.”

“I’m not doing it. I won’t do this.” Mark stated. The man shook his head.

“You will.” He purred in Mark’s ear, making the Australian’s jaw lock. “Because the three of us are about to show the world how wrong you two are. How this is not right and shouldn’t be accepted.”

“This all some homophobic stance then, mate? I can assure you even if you kill us both you won’t change the whole world’s mind.”

“I’ll kill however many people I have to to make this stop.” He bit, pressing the revolver into Mark’s chest. Mark refused to take hold of it. “You go first.”

“No.”

“Don’t be difficult now, Webber. I’ve got a lot more bullets than you. I’ve got a lot more ways I can make this worse.”

“I bet you have.” Mark shot, still not taking the gun.

“You’ve got a one in six chance. You might not even kill him on the first go.”

“I’m not risking it.”

“Take the gun.”

“No.”

“Ok.” Fernando screamed as the electric device made contact with the skin of his neck. He tried to thrash out but his movement were prevented by the binds keeping him in the chair. Mark acted impulsively, ripping the revolver from the guy’s hands, knowing it was the only way he was going to stop this onslaught on Fernando. Fernando fell forwards, breathing harshly as the forth hooded man stepped back into the shadows, taking the device with him. “Now shoot or I’ll do that again.”

Mark couldn’t blink away the anguish from Fernando’s face. It was burnt into his memory, stained on the back on his eyelids. His eyes filled with tears as he looked down at the weapon now in his hand. He couldn’t. He couldn’t aim this gun at Fernando knowing it might end his life. He couldn’t live with that. He wouldn’t do it. What right did this jerk have to demand such a thing from them? No. Mark shook his head. He wasn’t playing this game.

The next pulse seemed worse. And it seemed like Fernando couldn’t breathe. Mark was crying now, full-blown tears racing down his cheeks as he watched the man he loved be tortured before his very eyes. Watched as his body spasmed out of his control and he tried to beg for it all to stop.

“I’m bored now, Webber.” The guy said, his eyes and camera locked on Fernando. “So you either shoot or I’ll kill him like this.” Mark gasped out a breath. He couldn’t see this happen. He wanted it all to stop. He looked down at the gun again, blinking away the tears and looking at the blasted thing. He gasped in shock as he saw it. It was the hope he needed. He couldn’t kill Fernando if he could see the bullet in the cylinder. It meant it wasn’t loaded. It meant Fernando was safe.

He lifted the gun, his hand shaking, towards Fernando. Fernando took several shaky breaths once the electrifying had stopped; cautiously glancing up as to why to abuse had stopped. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Mark was going to shoot him. Mark might kill him. Fernando’s bottom lip began to protrude as he shook his head, tears streaming down his face.

“No, Mark-” He breathed; voice vanished from the attack and his imminent tears.

“-Trust me.” Mark said, hating everything about this situation. Fernando was falling apart in front of him. The Spaniard really thought he would take the risk. “Fernando it’s safe.”

“Do not… Do not know this…” Fernando sniffed, pleading Mark with his eyes. Mark just shook his head.

“I can’t watch them hurt you, Fernando…” He breathed, tears rolling down his face once more.

“Enough. Shoot him or don’t, but do it now.” The man declared, his voice growing impatient. Fernando shook his head.

“Mark-”

“-Trust me-”

“-Do not-!” Fernando speech was stopped as the revolver clicked. He flinched back instinctively, opening one eye slowly when he realised nothing had been shot. Mark looked at the gun, the bullet still just visible in the cylinder. The next shot would be safe. He nodded a little to himself, putting the gun down on the table. “NO!” Fernando shrieked as the man slid the weapon across the wooden desk to him. His eyes were wide and he was trying to scurry back away from this situation. He didn’t want to do this.

“Come along now, Nano. Mark did it.”

“I knew it was safe.” Mark pressed, not allowing the guy to twist this to fit his situation. The man just smirked.

“Seemed a little eager to shoot him if I’m honest…”

“No. I wasn’t.”

“You were. Don’t lie.” The man grimaced evilly. “You barely gave yourself a chance to check it. You see, Nano.” The man said, turning the camera on the Spaniard. “I’m really saving you from him. He wants you dead.”

“Am not… No.” Fernando spat, his face wet with tears and sweat. Mark reached for him again.

“You can, Fernando. It’s safe. You won’t kill me.” Mark said, knowing if Fernando didn’t a worse alternative was coming. Fernando shook his head.

“Will not.”

“You guys are making this harder than it should be.” The guy sighed, placing the camcorder back on its tripod. He pulled his gun from his belt, snapping off the safety and aiming it at Mark. “So, on the count of three, you shoot him or I will.”

“Fernando-” Mark tried, but the Spaniard was already protesting.

“Am not… Will not… No…” Fernando sobbed, looking only at Mark. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t be the one to end Mark’s life.

“I’ve got a lot more bullets than you, Fernando. Chances are if I shot him he will die. He might not if you do.”

“Hey, look at me.” Mark said, still reaching his hand for Fernando’s. Fernando turned his blood shot eyes to Mark. “It’s safe.”

“But-”

“-Just do it, Fernando. I promise you it will be fine.” Mark said quietly, his eyes softening. With a shaky breath, Fernando picked up the gun. “Eyes on me. No one else.”

“Cannot kill you, Mark.” Fernando wept, his hand shaking. He still wouldn’t lift the gun off the table.

“One.” The man said, taking a step closer to Mark.

“You won’t Fernando. But he will. It’s fine. Trust me. Just do it.”

“Two.”

“Fernando-” Mark begged. Fernando raised the gun, stopping Mark’s words, his hand still shaking terribly and his face becoming decorated with tears. He was shaking his head. “Eyes on me.”

“Fuck sake, someone steady his hand please.” Fernando’s second arm was release from behind his back and directed to support the gun up, aiming it directly at Mark’s forehead. Fernando shook his head again.

“Fernando, please. It’s fine.” Mark begged, feeling the guy closing in on his side, gun still loaded and ready to let out a critical shot. Fernando closed his eyes. And held his breath.

“What a load of drama for nothing.” The guy exasperated as the gun was lowered; a simple click signifying the bullet still wasn’t in place. Fernando looked now where but Mark’s eyes as the gun was slid from under his hands and over to Mark. Mark took Fernando’s hand in his, gripping it tightly. They could win this game, both of them. They just had to be strong. “Take your hand off the table or loose it.” The man barked, digging the point of his knife into the back of Fernando’s hand. Mark glared at him as Fernando pulled his hand back towards him, sniffing out the pain. He took the gun in his hand, about to look down at the cylinder. “This is a game of luck, Webber. Stop checking.” His arm was forced up, only released when he was directing the weapon at Fernando’s head. Something hit him hard in the chest as Fernando’s eyes locked with his. He saw the trust, the explicit trust Fernando had in him.

And holding a gun to his face seemed wrong.

He didn’t think twice, moving the gun to aim off at the man behind Fernando as he pulled the trigger.

The shot rang through the room, startling everyone a little.

Fernando opened his eyes wide, shocked that the shot had gone off. Even more shocked that they both still sat there. “Oh no. No, no, Webber.” The man tutted. There was seconds. Fernando was looking at Mark as the knife drew across his throat from behind, breaking his skin into a red hot smile. He fell forwards heavily onto the table.

Mark couldn’t blink.

“What a shame. I was kind of hoping he was going to kill you.” The man sighed, wiping Fernando’s blood off of his knife. Mark couldn’t look away from Fernando’s limp form. The puddle of blood slowly oozing across the wooden surface. He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t understand what was happening in front of him. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t. “Well.” The man said sounding disappointed as he turned off the camera. “Thanks for playing along.”

He began to leave the room. Leave Mark tied to his chair with Fernando’s lifeless body slowly draining of blood in front of him.

“YOU FUCKING BASTARD!” Mark screamed, fighting with the ropes on his chair. The man and his followers didn’t stop, walking out of the room with their backs to the Australian. “YOU CUNTS! I WILL KILL YOU!” He bellowed, ripping ravishingly at his other arm with his one free one. He did nothing but tear at his own skin, his movements abandoned and unhelpful as the rope just bit into his skin.

“You do realise, Webber, you could have had this ending the other way.” The man declared from the shadows. Mark glared in the general direction of his voice.

“It would have been better than this!” Mark snarled. “If you wanted me dead why didn’t you just kill me! Why did it have to be him!”

“Because I think letting you live with the guilt that it was you who killed him is better than killing you myself.” There was a heavy slam of a door and then silence. Mark fought heavily with the chair until he suddenly threw himself on the floor, cracking the worked wood and freeing himself from its hold. He rushed forwards to Fernando, pulling the ropes from his body before pulling him off the table. He hollered in anger. Fernando’s pale face and blood stained front told him the news he didn’t want to know. It was over. There was no bringing Fernando back.

He didn’t know how long he sat there but he made no attempt to leave. He sagged onto the floor, pulling Fernando into his lap and cradling the dead Spaniard into his embrace, muttered soft words to him as he cried.

Sobbed his heart out.

**Author's Note:**

> I really am sorry… T.T


End file.
